


Here in Your Perfect Eyes

by pavlablack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Community: black-circle-dj, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pavlablack/pseuds/pavlablack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius wants Remus, of course he does. That they haven't done more than exchange platonic touches—and barely that—since he got back from Azkaban frustrates the hell out of him. So why can't he just let go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here in Your Perfect Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Anything you recognize belongs to JKR, not me. Written for 2012/2013 Black Circle DJ. The title is from Snow Patrol's beautiful song _Chasing Cars_. Thanks so much to rewrites24 for the beta help, and to the mods for putting on this fest and giving us all some extra time!

Sirius sits in his mother's old armchair, staring out at the snow blanketing the grounds as he draws smoke into his lungs and lets an ash drop onto the carpet. Buckbeak stirs on the bed, gnawing on a rat skeleton and drooling on Walburga's favourite duvet. While defiling the old bat's room gives Sirius a modicum of pleasure, it's not enough to soothe the dull ache that began in his chest as the winter holidays drew to a close and Harry's return to Hogwarts loomed over him like a Dementor. Now that Remus and Tonks have escorted the children back to school and Molly and Arthur have gone back to the Burrow, the ache has sharpened into something unbearable, and Sirius is left alone to brood as he pleases.

_You do as you please, with no regard for anyone but yourself_ , the voices of his mother and father and Regulus echo around him.

He knows he's working himself into a fit of the doldrums, as Molly would say, but she's not here. No one's here but the ghosts of his past, so if he wants to indulge himself in a little self-pity, what does it matter?

He leans closer to the window until it fogs up with his cold, smoky breath.

"Sirius?" Remus gives a light rap on the open door.

Sirius catches his breath and shuts his eyes, pressing his forehead against the frosty glass for a moment before granting him entrance.

"You're getting better at not waking my mother's portrait. I didn't hear you come in."

"Sorry if I startled you."

Sirius opens his eyes but doesn't turn around. "It's all right. Got the children off to school, then?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He takes another drag of his cigarette. "Didn't expect you back here tonight."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I thought you and Tonks might . . . stay the night in Hogsmeade, or something."

Remus laughs. "Sirius, there's nothing going on between your cousin and me."

"It's okay if there is, Remus. I know she fancies you. And I know I haven't been—"

He hears Remus stride across the carpet, stopping just behind him. "Sirius, it's all right."

"You don’t have to pretend, Remus. I know . . . I know it's not."

Remus touches Sirius on the shoulder but pulls back when he stiffens.

Sirius grinds his cigarette into the carpet, as angry at himself as he has ever been. He wants Remus, of course he does. That they haven't done more than exchange platonic touches—and barely that—since he got back from Azkaban frustrates the hell out of him. So why can't he just let go?

Remus sighs. "You seemed happy, before the children went back to school."

"I was. As happy as I can be here, at least."

Remus moves into his line of vision, bowing to Buckbeak before sitting down on the small corner of the bed not occupied by the Hippogriff. "Tell me something," he says after a while. "What's your happiest memory?"

Sirius scoffs. "What are you playing at, Remus?" If Remus is trying to trick him into a better mood, it won't work. It doesn't do any good to dwell on happy memories when they're so far out of reach they may as well belong to someone else.

"Just humor me," Remus says softly. "What memory do you use to cast a Patronus?"

Sirius sighs, knowing Remus won't give up until he answers. "Fine. James and Lily's wedding day." Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius glimpses a look of surprise on Remus's face. "What? Thought it was a pretty good memory for both of us." He remembers Remus's steady hand on his hip as they danced, the look of determination in his eyes as he leaned into Sirius and whispered, _I've got something to tell you_ , and then later that night, Remus's hands all over him, making his body thrum with a desire he hadn't known he was capable of.

He can't help feeling hurt that Remus apparently doesn't think of that night the same way. _Great job cheering me up, Moony_ , he wants to say.

"Of course it was, Padfoot. I just . . . thought you might have chosen the day Harry was born, that's all."

"Oh." Sirius recalls the first time he felt the warm weight of the baby in his arms. He'd never felt such a sense of wonder as he did in that moment. But he'd also never more acutely felt the weight of the war pressing down on him, with the thought that there was so much to lose.

"It might have been," he finally says, "but the war was so bad by then . . . I couldn't help feeling that we didn't have much more time together." He doesn't specify whether he means time with Harry, James and Lily, or Remus, because he knows Remus will understand he means to encompass them all.

Remus reaches out to squeeze his hand, then threads their fingers together before pulling him to his feet. "Come on," he says, guiding Sirius towards the door. "You're not going to feel any better sitting by yourself in the dark. Besides, it stinks to high heaven in here."

Sirius is too tired to argue and follows Remus out into the hallway. He braces himself for an awkward goodnight when they reach his bedroom door, but Remus pulls them past it and up a smaller flight of stairs.

"Are we doing a runner?" he half-jokes as Remus leads him up onto the roof, his heart lifting slightly at the thought that Remus has somehow come up with a solution that would allow them to watch over Harry but to get the hell out of here.

"Not exactly."

Sirius feels the tiny spark of hope go out. "What then? I'm tired, and it's cold out."

"Just bear with me, please?" Remus says quietly, and Sirius takes one look at the pleading expression in his eyes and gives in. He supposes it's the least he can do if Moony left a perfectly willing Tonks in Hogsmeade to spend the evening with a depressing person in a depressing house.

"All right," he says, letting the door shut behind them.

Remus pulls out his wand to cast a warming charm before drawing Sirius away from the door and into his arms, one hand coming to rest on Sirius's hip, the other on the back of his neck. "Dance with me."

Sirius's looks down, his arms hanging uncomfortably at his sides. "Remus, this is stupid. There's no music."

"Doesn't matter," Remus whispers, lifting Sirius's chin.

And there it is—the same intense look Remus gave him that night their friendship turned into something more. Sirius clasps his hands rigidly around Remus's back, wishing he could just lean into the other man's touch, but this seems to be the most he can do, and Remus doesn’t push him.

"Tell me what you think of when you cast your Patronus." Remus turns them in a slow circle.

"I told you. That night," he answers, trying hard to mirror Remus's movements. But the last time they danced, he was young and strong, not brittle and broken like he is now.

"Be specific," Remus says, taking on the professorial tone Sirius knows so well.

"I don't know," Sirius says, allowing himself to relax just slightly into Remus's arms. "It's more of a feeling, really. I remember bits and pieces—how James threatened to hex me when I pretended I couldn't find the ring, but Wormtail calmed him down. How pretty Lily looked in her wedding gown. I remember I hated Muggle formalwear, until I saw you in yours." He looks at Remus. "Very dashing."

"What else?" Remus smiles, turning them again.

Sirius takes a breath, concentrating all of his energy into remembering, just as he would if he were casting a Patronus. "Laughter—I remember laughter." He closes his eyes and with the warm air and Remus's arms around him, it's almost palpable—that tipsy feeling as Remus leaned in to kiss him, the bubbles of joy that rose in his chest as he heard Lily's delighted laughter and James's "About bloody time!" It makes his heart surge with love and ache with loss at the same time, and he suddenly feels weak in the knees.

He buries his face in Remus's neck. "Sometimes I wish someone would bloody Oblivate me." He can feel the sob rising in his chest and it's too much. All of it's too much, and he has to get it out. "I know it's terrible to say, Remus, but sometimes . . . sometimes wish I never knew them."

"Sometimes I feel the same way," Remus says, surprising him. One hand strokes Sirius's hair, while the other still rests on his hip, his thumb drawing soothing circles against his stomach.

And Sirius can feel his body being pulled in those two familiar directions again—the desire to push Remus down and shag him right here on the roof fighting against the urge to run away now, before someone gets hurt again.

But there has to be somewhere in between, doesn't there? "Kiss me," he finally says, taking Remus's hand and pressing it against his face. "God, kiss me, please."

"Sirius, you don't have to—"

"Just kiss me. That's all. I know I probably taste like Firewhiskey and fags, but—"

"Never bothered me before," Remus says, those perfectly determined eyes looking straight through Sirius. He brushes a calloused thumb over Sirius's cheek before sliding it over his lower lip. "I've got to tell you something," he whispers, leaning into Sirius's ear like he did that night. "I think I'm in love with you."

Sirius lets out something between a sob and a laugh, which he supposes is an accurate reflection of how he feels. Remus makes a similar sound, kissing along Sirius's jawline before pressing their mouths together softly, slowly, tracing a tongue along Sirius's lips.

Sirius can still taste the salt from their tears when Remus pulls back, giving him an expectant look. And though it feels a little bit like coming undone, Sirius says those three words that he's felt far too often, yet never had the strength to say until now. Because he knows, finally—he should have always known—he doesn't have to carry them all by himself.

"I miss them. God, Moony, I miss them so much. And I—missed you."

"I know," Remus whispers, pulling Sirius closer as he falters, steadying him. "I've got you."


End file.
